Well, here's a little background on this story:
Meet .com/ , she drew an awesome picture here .com/gallery/#/d33xmo0, and I was like "Ho shit! Lemme write a story on that lovely piece of awesome!".
Please check out the picture, as it will really help with the visuals of the characters. As for Canada and France, imagine them looking the same, only Canada smaller and more innocent (that's possible? Hmm…).
ANYWAY.
Hetalia © Hidekazu Himaruya Steve McQueen © Sheryl Crow Another One Bites The Dust & Bohemian Rhapsody © Queen Fever © Adam Lambert
Clearly, I own nothing. D:
Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think!
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Have you ever watched someone want someone else so badly, that they would get mauled by fifty polar bears at once just to catch a glimpse of their face.
Matthew has.
Though the boy himself wasn't in band class, he would sit through every one of his brothers' practices. (Apparently, he truly was invisible; the teacher hadn't noticed once that Matthew was sitting in.) He watched his brother Alfred, everyday, as he walked into the music room, and was clearly blown away by a certain freckly, green-eyed Briton.
"Alfred, just go talk to him!"
Matthew rarely raised his voice, but this was an exception. He had watched this go on for far too long, and he was fed up!
"Hmm? Did you say something Matt…?"
The far-off, dreamy tone matched the seemingly smitten boys face. His blue eyes were observing his every move.
Matthew sighed, and rolled his eyes. What was the poor blonde to do? He didn't like seeing his brother live like this, so pitiful and lonely, but he couldn't even get his own love life sorted out, how was he to help his brother?
Suddenly, a stroke of brilliance hit him. This plan was so good, Matthew's brain paused momentarily, confirming the excellence of it. It took him a few moments to regain his thoughts, not that anyone noticed. He smirked; his plan was going to work like a charm.
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Alfred sat,preoccupied with observing his little Brit- wait, his?
The blue-eyed blonde shook his head. Arthur was not his, nor would he ever be… But a guy can dream, can't he?
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Seeing his brother finally coming back to reality, Matthew poked Alfred's rib, hoping to keep him there for a few more moments.
"Oww! What the hell Matt! What was that for?"
Matthew rolled his eyes for a second time. Oh, the things he did for his ungrateful brother.
"I wanna make a bet."
At the word 'bet', Alfred's head perked up.
"Deal! Bring it on, I'll murder you!"
"Al, you don't even know what we're betting on… Hoser."
"Oh, right," the blonde scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "So what are we betting on?"
The violet-eyed teen suppressed a smirk, this was all too easy.
"Homecoming game, like every year, only a little more interestingly so."
"Oh-ho, a challenge, hey? Alright, what is it?"
"Well, if we win, you have to," Matthew's voice dropped to a whisper, "Ask Arthur to the homecoming dance."
The pair were silent for a moment, Matthew smirking, Alfred's jaw dropped.
'He-he knows? AM I THAT OBVIOUS? OMG, DUDE! THAT'S NOT COOL… Wait a second…'
Soon enough, both blondes were smirking, cause Matthews' smirk to waiver. The blue-eyed blonde shouldn't be smirking, nor confidant!
"Haha, awesome, deal! But, if we lose, you have to go up to your petit little choir star, and kiss him."
"Al, you idiot, you said 'small' twice – wait! Fr-fr-Francis? Yo-you want me to kiss Fran-cis?
A smirk, "That's what I said. Deal?"
Oh the things Matthew did for his brother. They'll get him killed one day.
"D-d-d-deal!"
"Fantastic," Alfred replied, a little too enthusiastic to be up to anything good. But before the younger could say anything more, his brother had gotten up and reseated himself at the school's drum set.
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Neither of the twins could stop thinking about the deal they had made the previous day. Both of their minds were swimming with what ifs:
"What if we win?"
"What if we lose?"
"What if I chicken out?"
"What if I get rejected?"
"Yo! Matt, whatcha thinkin' about? Chu seem really outta it, cha know?"
Matthew's face darkened substantially, and his Cuban friend looked at him with more worry.
"O-oh nothing, just this silly French project, Estevan."
"Oh please, chu're acing this class, bra."
"Estevan is right, Matt," Katyusha, their Ukrainian friend said, "You have like, 99 percent."
"I know, Katy, I just… Don't want to lower my mark anymore."
"Ch'eah, 'cause that would just be a pity, eh, Matt?"
The darker-skinned male punched his friends arm, laughing loudly.
Meanwhile, in History, Alfred was battling the same problems his brother was.
"Alfred-san, you don't seem to be with us; are you feeling alright?"
The mentioned male looked at his friend, and then shook his head.
"Huh, oh, nah, I'm cool Kiku, what were we talking about again?"
The raven-haired teen briefed the blonde on the group's conversation, which was orbiting around the release of the newest, gore-filled video game.
A bell chimed three times, announcing the end of the current class. The sound of screeching chairs and the slamming of books were like music to every student's ear.
School was over.
Friday's were especially great for Matthew, because not only did it mean the end of another gruesome week, but it meant another weekly choir practice.
Matthew felt he had no greater talent than singing, regardless of whether he was good or not. When he sang, he felt as if all the things he went through on a daily basis were worthwhile, and all his pent up emotions could be set free.
Of course, this also meant seeing, and hearing the fallen angel that is Francis Bonnefoy. But, you won't tell, right?
The small group of no more than twenty-five students gathered in the band room. Roderich and Elizabeta, the two former students that had taken on the task of running the small choir, were situated at the front of the room, waiting for the rest of the choir to filter into the room. Matthew sat on the bleachers, absentmindedly making small talk with an even smaller freshman, a petite blonde girl named Lili. Soon, the two were joined by one of Matthew's friends, Gilbert.
"Don't fret, the awesome me is here!"
"Yeah, on time for once, eh?"
Lili giggled, before telling Matthew she would talk to him later and walking off to sit with another one of her friends.
"Jeez, are you really getting that desperate? Going after poor freshmen? Tsk tsk, Mattie, I thought you were better than that."
The blonde slapped his albino friend's arm, "Shut up."
In return, the red-eyed teen sat beside him, chatting lively about his awesome day.
"Attention, ladies and gentlemen, we need to get started soon so everyone find their spot and let's warm up."
After a thorough piano-assisted vocal warm up, the choir pulled out their sheet music, Roderich hit the B flat that the soloist began on. An acoustic guitar began "Steve McQueen", a Sheryl Crow classic.
Blue-eyed, blonde-haired perfection stood up.
"Well I went to bed in Memphis, and I woke up in Hollywood…"
Matthew couldn't stop thinking about how good Francis' voice sounded, like French silk across his skin, making his insides melt.
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"So Mattie, there's only a few more days left until the big game."
"Yes Al, I am aware. Why are you feeling the need to remind me, worried perhaps?"
The younger blonde could do nothing but smirk at his brother's lame attempts to rebut.
"N-no, what would make you think that?"
"That would be your totally un-awesome stutter, dude."
The albino seemed to appear out of thin air, leaning against the locker beside Matthews'. Alfred's eyes bulged like no tomorrow,
"YOU TOLD HIM?"
"I didn't tell him anything Al."
"It's true dude… Wait, what are we talking about? I thought we were talking about Alfred's totally un-awesome stuttering, unless someone would like to inform me…"
Matthew pushed his friend away from his locker and into the hallway,
"Go to class Gil."
The red-eyed boy shrugged,
"Fine, fine, see ya there, Mattie."
The twins watched the older male walk down the almost deserted hall before continuing their conversation.
"How could you tell him?"
"Oh, for goodness sake, Al, I didn't tell Gilbert anything, he just proved my point for me... In a very awesome way."
Alfred was left to watch his brother follow the path that was made a few moments before, and he turned and walked in the opposite direction. The blonde stalked off, dragging his feet. He was never going to have the guts to ask Arthur out, even if their school's team, in their fourth consecutive year without a win, won.
Sulking, the blonde continued the halls, eventually crashing right into someone.
"Holy crap! I'm so sorry!"
"That's alright, Alfred," A smile.
A very, very, British smile. A very, very, British smile that caused his heart to flutter, and crave for more.
"A-Arthur! Hi, hello, hey! How are you this fine, fine morning?"
Alfred's face was brighter than a Christmas tree, and his whole body was shaking, partially from embarrassment, partially from nervousness.
"I'm very well, how are you? You look slightly flushed."
The blonde's face darkened a good two shades.
"O-oh, I just ran Mattie my History textbook. He has it right now, but forgot his at home."
"How noble of you."
Alfred flashed the smaller blonde his pearly whites, covered with thick metal and wires.
"So, Arthur, what class do you have right now?"
"Oh, I have Creative Writing. How about you?"
"Math. Hurray."
This elicited a chuckle from the green-eyed blonde.
"H-how 'bout if I, I walk you to your class? Mine's right down the hall, and the bell's gonna ring soon anyway."
"S-sure!"
Arthur's freckle-tainted skin was covered in a light pink, accentuating each dot for more than it was worth.
The pair walked through the halls, laughing and flirting to infinity and beyond.
"Well, this is my class…"
Alfred visibly saddened, but caught himself quickly.
"Well, have fun writing creatively."
The smaller laughed,
"Have fun solving quadratic equations."
"Oh, way to remind me."
"Well, I'll see you after school, right?"
'After school…? IS HE ASKING ME OUT?'
"For band class…"
"R-right? Right! Band! Right, right! Yeah, for sure, I'll be there."
"Good, well, see you."
Arthur turned and entered his half full classroom.
"See you…"
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Matthew didn't see his brother at lunch, so he was slightly worried about his well being. But, not wanting to overreact, he assumed that Alfred had skipped the afternoon.
Matthew's class was let out early, so after stopping at his locker, he made his way out to the student parking lot. Seeing his brother nowhere near their car, he took a seat on the hood; it's not like he had any place better to go.
The blonde pulled out his choir sheet music, he had been having a tough time with a certain few bars, and he hummed them out, trying to find the note in his head.
"Mathieu, what are you doing out of class?"
The violet-eyed teen almost fell off the car, started by the silky smooth voice in his ear. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was, but he did anyway.
Blue met violet, and Matthew turned pink, looking away.
"M-my class got l-let out e-early."
"I see. Oh, is this the choir music? Per'aps I could provide you with some assistance, oui?"
"Oh no, no, I'm alright, thank you."
The older blonde chuckled.
"Oh come now, just let me 'elp."
Matthew couldn't bring himself to reject the blonde again, so he halfheartedly agreed to let Francis help him.
After a good fifteen minutes, the bell chimed, causing Matthew to jump, and Francis to laugh at his reaction.
"That's not funny…"
The violet-eyed teen subconsciously put on a pout. He swore the other blondes face flashed pink.
"Well, I best be on my way. I'll see you later, Mathieu."
After a characteristic wink from the elder, Matthew could do nothing but nod, heart beating in his ears.
"Yo! Mattie, chu weren't sittin' out here by yourself, were ya?"
It was the third time in twenty minutes Matthew had almost fallen off the hood of that car.
"Maple! O-oh, no Estevan, F-Francis was here with me, helping with some choir stuff, and stuff…"
"I'm so sure…"
His friends tone was full of skepticism, clearly not believing the blonde.
"HEY PUNK GET OFFA MY CA-, oh, hey Matt."
Matthew sighed; why, WHY did he have to have a brother who forgot his existence? You'd think you'd remember someone who looks exactly like you, has the same birthday as you, and has shared a room with you since birth. But, not wanting to be rude, Matthew just got off the hood, said goodbye to Estevan, and got in the passenger's seat of the now unlocked car.
"Are you alright, Al? You seem a little on edge…"
"Oh perfect, I'm perfect as perfect could possibly be!"
Matthew deadpanned.
"So, are you going to tell me what's wrong, or just sit there in denial?"
Silence filled the car, along with a tension that could be cut with a knife.
"I failed a test…"
The younger stared at his brother, incredulously.
"Wow, so are you done lying to me now? You and I both know you don't care if you fail a test."
Alfred smashed his head against the steering wheel, and Matthew thanked God that they were still in the parking lot. After this, the car was silent again.
"Arthur saw it… HE SAW THAT I'M A FAILURE!"
His brother was stupid, mentally not there. He had no brain, that was Matthew's conclusion. No brain whatsoever.
"Alfred, I knew you weren't all there, but really? Why don't you ask him to tutor you?"
Slowly, Alfred raised his head off the steering wheel, eyes bulging with the sensational awesomeness of his brother's plan.
"MATTIE, YOU'RE A GENIUS!"
"One of us has to be…"
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Alfred, for once in his life, had a logical plan.
He would stroll into class casually, wait for their last test to be handed out, look at his mark, feign true disappointment, then turn to Arthur, tears filling his blue eyes to the brim,
"Arthur, do you think you, and your natural English articulation and intelligence could attempt to aid me in this darned class?".
It's perfect, perfect, PERFECT! Arthur would be unable to refuse.
"Ok Matt! I'll text you and let you know when the plan works out!"
Matthew cringed,
"You mean, if it works out, right Al?"
"Yeah, yeah, sure, sure," the blonde responded, running towards the building, leaving his brother in the parking lot, rolling his eyes, and praying to God that this crazy plan worked.
The morning passed slowly, agonizingly slowly. Smashing his face against multiple items crossed Alfred's mind, but he refrained from doing so.
The lunch bell rang, and Alfred made his way to the usual table he and his friends sat at. He could stop the glance that traveled around the entire cafeteria every few seconds.
"Alfred-san, are you alright? You seem, on edge."
The blonde jumped, flushing pink soon after.
"Ahahah, don't worry 'bout it, Kiku."
The small Asian gave him a skeptical look, before returning to his lunch, glancing over to Alfred every so often.
Alfred, however, didn't notice at all. The blue-eyed teen spent the whole lunch hour on his own planet, no one thought remaining longer than five seconds in his ADD mind. Before he knew it, the bell had rung, and students, groaning and whining, made their ways to their next class.
"Alfred-san, you have History now, correct?"
"Y-yeah," A gulp, "Yeah, Kiku, I do. But, um, you have math, right?"
The brown-eyed teen smiled, "Yes! It is my favorite class!"
The two got up together, dumping the remains of their lunch in the trash can, and walking to their individual classes. Alfred waved goodbye to his friend, but didn't enter his classroom. He had to compose himself.
After a few deep breaths, and much convincing, he walked into the classroom, making eye contact immediately with the green-eyed blonde included in the plan that had been gnawing at him all morning.
"Alfred! How are you?"
A genuine smile caused the mentioned teen's voice to catch in his throat.
"Good," He managed to squeak out, burning red as Arthur tried not to laugh.
"How are you?"
"Lovely."
The two continued the conversation, completely caught up in each other, as the teacher handed out an old test. Arthur looked at his and smiled, turning to Alfred.
"How did you do?"
Alfred looked down at the paper, his eyes meeting the big, red F, circled numerous times.
"Not so good… I got an F."
The green-eyed male look surprised,
"Well, I could tutor you if you'd like. We have another test on Friday, and I'd hate to see you fail another. And, I mean, if you don't want to, that's quite alright, but-"
"I'd love that."
"Perfect. Tomorrow? After school?"
"Sounds great."
Both smiled. Arthur turned around to face the front, grin plastered on his face; Alfred let out a breath of relief. Both their plans had worked.
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Matthew sat in his fourth block French Second Language class, bored out of his mind. His teacher droned on about the French Revolution; why? Matthew didn't know. They were to be learning the language. If they wanted to learn the history, they would take History.
The blonde felt his eyelids turn to lead, drooping more and more, until his vision went hazy. Suddenly, a vibration in his pocket brought him back to life. He, as discretely as he could, pulled a cell phone from his jean pocket. After looking around, he came to the realization that his teacher was far too into his discussion with himself to notice if Matthew was texting, due to the fact that 95 % of his class was already doing it.
He flipped the screen up: "One New Message From: Alfred", he read.
Holding his breath, he opened the text, worried for what he might read. His eyes moved quickly as he read:
"MATT! HE SAD YES! CAN U BELEVE IT! AFTERSCHOOL TOMARROW IM GONNA GO TO HIS HOUSE!"
A sigh of relief, then, one of aggravation. No wonder he needed a tutor; does the boy not know how to spell or what? Rolling his eyes at his brothers idiocy, he began a reply:
"Congrats, Alfred… Though, you really should learn how to spell. : )"
Hopefully Alfred got the sarcastic relevance of the smiley face.
The bell rung, and the class was dismissed. The violet-eyed blonde made his way to his locker as quickly as he could. A certain albino teen was waiting for him there.
"Gilbert? Is everything alright?"
Gilbert smirked, "Everything's fantastic. I'm here to deliver a message. You are needed in the music room. ASAP."
Matthew looked confused, but opened his locker, put his books away and hurried to the music room. Gilbert couldn't stop smirking.
The blonde walked through the busy hallways, following the maze to the music room. When he got there, he saw the door open, and entered, hoping nothing bad had happened.
"Ah, Mathieu! I see you got my urgent message."
Matthew froze; Francis had wanted him. ASAP.
"Ye-yes. Gilbert to-told me. I'm sorry it took so lo-long."
Francis smiled at the younger blonde, pulling a small stack of papers off the piano.
"You need not worry, dear Mathieu. But, I do have a question for you."
Violet-eyed Matthew could only nod.
"As you know, they homecoming game is in a few days, and the school has been looking for a duet to sing for the halftime show, and just some after game entertainment. But, they 'ave been unable to find anyone. I was wondering if you would like to sing with me, at the game."
The younger was drifting in and out of Francis' speech; he was paying more attention to when his French accent came out, and how beautifully his name was spoken when uttered by the Frenchman.
"If you don't want to, just say so, but- Mathieu? Are you alright?"
At being mentioned directly, the blonde snapped out of his stupor, lighting up like a Christmas tree, then quickly nodding.
"Sure, yeah, sounds great."
Francis beamed.
"Really? You'll do it? You will sing with me at the game?"
Matthew deadpanned; damn his not being able to comprehend two things at once.
"Y-yes, I suppose so."
"C'est magnifique!"
"Oui…"
"Here's the sheet music! We shall start practicing tomorrow, oui?"
"Oui."
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"You're singing with him?"
Matthew spun around continuously, becoming a blur of blonde and leather chair.
"For the millionth time, yes. I am."
Alfred sat on his bed, stupefied.
"I didn't know you sang."
The younger stopped spinning and stared incredulously at his twin, who looked back, confused.
"Alfred, I'm in choir, I've been singing since I was 10!"
"Psh, well how was I supposed to know that?"
Matthew rolled his eyes, sighed angrily, and stormed out of the room. Alfred's room made him too angry, perhaps it was the red walls. His own white walls gave him a sense of solitude. He glanced around the room, trying to find something that would distract him from his brother's stupidity.
After a few moments of pointless looking, his eyes fell upon his backpack. He walked up to it, cautiously pulling out the sheet music the blonde Senior had given him, to begin practice for the homecoming game. How Francis thought that Matthew would be ready in four days was beyond him, but he looked through the music anyway. He had given Francis his word that he would perform on Friday, and so he would.
It seemed they would perform three songs, two at half time, one at the end of the game, at least that was the conclusion the blonde drew from the handwritten note, telling him that he would get more sheet music tomorrow.
"Another One Bites the Dust"; Matthew smiled and grabbed his MP3 player, plugging it into speakers, and blaring the song. He sang along, finding the sheet music to match the recorded version quite well.
After a colorful complaint from Alfred, Matthew replaced the speakers with headphones, and started on some homework. Within a half hour, the blonde was back to boredom. Though after thought ran through his now vacant mind, and before he knew it, he was rereading the note from Francis.
Violet eyes memorized each fluent curve, the crystal clear penmanship was flourished with a general air of French perfection. The teen sat there into the depths of the night, rereading the note until he could recite it to perfection.
The younger twin fell asleep with the note in his small hands, earbuds softly spewing "Bohemian Rhapsody".
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School the next day couldn't pass fast enough for either twin. When the final bell of the day rang, both sprung out of their seats in separate classrooms, and rushed to their lockers. Alfred was dropping Matthew off at Francis' before going to Arthurs', and was currently being an impatient brat.
"Matt! Hurry up, I'm going to be late!"
The violet-eyed teen chose not to respond to his brother, and walked out to the car somewhat slower than he would if he were with anyone other than his annoying twin. The two got in the car and sped off. The only words uttered between the two were Francis' address, and a swift goodbye as Alfred kicked his younger brother out of the car. Matthew worried a bit over this, knowing his brother had a bigger mouth than anyone else he knew of. The blonde reached into his pocket, fished out his cellphone and sent his brother a quick good luck text, before walking up to the door of the beautifully crafted home.
With a shaky hand, the young blonde rung the doorbell, hearing the faint bell chime through the house. Listening intently, he heard footsteps, and felt his palms grow clammy.
The door opened revealing an older woman, wrinkles sagging her small, delicate face, a shock of white-grey hair pulled back in a messy bun. She turned into the house.
"Francis! La porte! La porte est pour toi! Répondre elle," the woman turned back,
"Désolé, mais je n'ai sait pas anglais."
Matthew found his voice, and quickly responded to her,
"C'est bien! Je sait français!"
"Mathieu, you know French?"
Matthew jumped, the smooth voice he was used to sounding so surprised seemed odd. He liked it.
"Y-yes, I take it as a second language course."
The woman hit Francis' arm with the tea towel she was holding,
"Vous lui faire peur!"
"Désolé, maman! Um, come in Mathieu, we can start on the songs. Follow me."
The woman watched as Matthew removed his shoes and trailed awkwardly after Francis up the stairs. She smiled to herself, and returned to the kitchen to finish the dishes.
Francis led the way up the stairs and down the hallway. Matthew admired the spectacular house: the hardwood floors, cream walls accented with deep crimsons and navy blues, paned glass windows. Suddenly, the older blonde opened a door, leading to a rather large carpeted room with a grand piano sitting in the middle, guitars, violins, and a drum set lining the walls. The younger teen let out a breathy, almost inaudible "Wow".
The sun was still high in the sky, sending out light to hit every metallic item in the room, making it look like a bigger spectacle than it was before. Violet eyes couldn't stop looking taking in the room. The orbs eventually landed on the older blonde, who was currently bent over, picking up sheet music that had fallen off of the piano. Matthew blushed a crimson and spun around to face a wall when he realized he had been staring, not only at Francis, but at his ass.
Francis, who was now situated on the piano bench, beckoned the blonde to the piano.
"S-so, what songs are we d-doing?"
The blonde at the piano just smiled at the younger.
"W-what?" Matthew asked, immediately becoming self-conscious.
"Mon cher, you need to relax. It is only me here."
'Yeah, that's kind of the problem.'
"R-right. I-I mean, right!"
Francis laughed; Matthew thought it was the greatest sound he had ever heard.
"Alright, so let us get to singing, yes?"
"Yes. So, um, what other songs are we doing?"
The blue-eyed blonde spread out several songs of sheet music on the top of the piano.
"You choose," A smile.
Matthew glanced at all the titles: Fireflies by Owl City, Calling All Angels by Train, Strut and Fever by Adam Lambert.
"Th-they're all good, you choose."
The truth was, Matthew hadn't actually heard two of the four song choices, and didn't want to pick one that Francis didn't like.
"Hmmm, perhaps Fever?"
"Sure!"
The blue-eyed blond handed the sheet music to Matthew, then put the rest in a large binder. He then got up, grabbed a guitar and sat back down, strumming it lightly, before looking back at Matthew.
"I'll sing it first, you join in whenever you'd like."
Matthew nodded, trying to swallow the fear, just close your eyes, and sing.
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Alfred sat in his car for a while after he pulled into the driveway of Arthur's house. Operation "Get-Arthur-To-Be-The-Hero's-Tutor" has, so far, been successful. But, it had merely started. The only way this was really going to work out, was if Alfred actually learned something and actually passed a test… This was going to be harder than he thought.
He had to get out of the car sooner or later, Arthur might think he stood him up. Following his own advice, Alfred opened the car door, grabbing his backpack, and locking the vehicle behind him.
Arthur's house was small, quaint, cute. White picket fence, rosebush in the front yard, two-person swing set upon the porch. He rang the doorbell, and glanced back over at the swing. He imagined he and Arthur sitting on it, gazing into each others' eyes, leaning in slowly, and-
"Alfred! Come in!"
Alfred jumped out of his short daydream, flashing a soft pink and smiling at the shorter blonde.
"Sure."
He walked in and took off his shoes, placing them beside Arthur's, as Arthur closed the door behind them.
"Follow me, we can go study in my room."
The blue-eyed blonde nodded, following the shorter up the flight of stairs, and into the well-lit bedroom.
Arthur's room was just as he expected; windows covering most of what would be wall, bookshelves covered in any and every type of book, a clean, made bed, a large, comfy looking chair, and a desk, covered in books, text and free reading, papers and pens.
"I'm sorry it's such a mess!"
"Are you serious? I don't think I've seen a room so clean," Alfred exclaimed, still observing the room. Even Matthews' wasn't this clean.
Arthur blushed, though Alfred missed it.
"Well, let's begin, yes?"
Arthur sat down at his desk, pulling the open History textbook into his hands, as he told Alfred to sit down. Turns out the chair was as comfy as it looked. The blue-eyed blonde sank into the chair, mentally preparing himself for real studying.
"Let's do this."
It was quickly noted that Alfred could not learn straight out of a text book. Arthur learned the hard way that Alfred had a short attention span.
"Then, in- Alfred, you look dead."
Silence.
"Alfred… Alfred?"
The boy stirred,
"Sorry, what?"
The smaller blonde smiled and shook his head.
"Why don't we try something else? Flash cards perhaps," Arthur was talking more to himself as he carefully ripped a few sheets of lined paper into flashcards, writing dates on one side, events on the other. He shuffled them (to the best of his ability), and pulled on out at random.
"July 2nd, 1776."
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"Oh baby! Light's on, but your mom's not home! I'm sick of laying down alone, with this fever, fever!"
The more Matthew sung the song, the more emotion he put into it. Anger, love, hurt, stress, any other emotion he felt left with the breaths he took. He forgot where he was, what he was doing; he forgot everything, and just sung.
As the song came to a finish for the umpteenth time that afternoon, Matthew broke out of his daze.
"Mathieu, you are an incredible singer. How have I never heard you sing before?"
The violet-eyed blonde looked down at his feet, embarrassed that he had actually received a compliment.
"I-I dunno…"
Before their conversation could get any further, Matthews phone rang. He reached into his pocket, pulling it out and answering it.
"Hello?"
"Hurry the hell up!"
The blonde heard a click and the line was disconnected. He rolled his eyes.
"My brother's here, I have to go."
Francis put the guitar down and grabbed Matthew's backpack,
"I'll walk you to the door."
"O-Okay. But, you really don't have to do that…"
"Do not worry Mathieu, it is my pleasure."
The two descended the stairs, and Matthew slipped his shoes on and opened the door, taking a few steps onto the porch.
"Mathieu! Your backpack!"
"Oh right!"
The younger blonde grabbed the backpack,
"Thank you."
"No problem, mon cher."
Before Matthew could comprehend it, Francis had leaned over, kissed his cheek, and retreated back into the house. Violet eyes were left staring, dumbfounded, at the front door. After a few moments of floating on a cloud (nine, perhaps?), he walked, almost drunkenly, to the car that sat waiting for him.
He slid into the passenger's seat, oblivious to his twin in the seat beside him, loudly complaining that he had to wait for three whole minutes. The car sped down the road, turning every once in a while. Matthew heard a dull buzzing in his ears, he figured it was reality trying to get back in, but he denied it entrance. The feeling of his lips were never going to leave his thoughts.
"Matt? Matt, are you listening to me?"
Or so he had hoped.
"Yes, of course Al."
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The next three afternoons were the same for the twins; each off to their individual destinations. Practice for each was strenuous, both trying to learn so much in so little time. Memorization and repetition seemed the only way to do it, so that's how it was done. Dates, years, notes, lyrics; read, repeat, read, repeat, read, repeat, move on. By Thursday afternoon, each blonde felt there was no more they could do to prepare. Whatever happened, happened.
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Friday; homecoming game against the school's biggest rival: another school.
Matthew didn't really pay attention to school football. All he knew was their team kind of sucked. He was more into Hockey.
The whole school buzzed with anticipation. Students shone with school pride, teachers cancelled test (except for Alfred's' History teacher), and most students were let out of last class early, just so they could get the best seats for the home game.
Alfred and Matthew met up at Alfred's locker.
"How'd the test go?"
The older twin put on a optimistic smile,
"Good, I hope…"
Alfred closed his locker, and the two walked towards the music room.
"So, you haven't forgotten of our little bet, now have you Matt?"
The younger grinned,
"I haven't if you haven't. I'll kick your ass."
Matthew left Alfred outside the music room by himself, shaking his head at the ego his brother had.
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The warm-up and pregame rehearsal was much less worrisome than Matthew expected it to be. Francis sent off an air of calmness, but Matthew knew that he was nervous on the inside.
Over the past week, Matthew had gotten to know Francis on another level. He wasn't always this egotistical flirt, who would wink at anything that walked. He met the sweet guy underneath it all, and he'd hate to admit it, but he may have been falling for the Frenchman.
The two practiced through the first half of the game, keeping up to date through Alfred, who sent a text every few minutes. When they were told five minutes were left until halftime, they made their way to the football field.
The cold air hit the younger blonde like a brick to his face. With every step he took, Matthew felt his heart beat increase; he felt it in his throat, his stomach, his hands… Which were suddenly warmer. He looked down, Francis had subconsciously grabbed onto his left hand, whether it was for his own comfort and reassurance, or Matthews', he didn't care. Their hands intertwined felt wonderful.
The buzzer went, and the crowd let out ear shattering cheers. Horns were blown, and cat-calls echoed as the cheerleaders took the field. Teams rushed to their respective change rooms.
"You ready?"
With both their hearts beating in their throats, Matthew nodded, and the pair walked to their individual spots to being the show; Matthew behind some bleachers, Francis in the middle of the field, cheerleaders surrounding him.
The crowd eventually died down, just for the band to start up. Bass, guitar, drum, flutes, and violin began in an instant; Matthew knew the song well.
"There he goes, my baby walks so slow. Sexual tic-tac-toe, yeah I know we both know it isn't time, no. But could you be m-mine? We'll never get too far. Just you, me and the bar, silly ménage a trois, sometimes. Would you be m-mine? Would you be m-mine? Would you be m-mine?"
Matthew took a breath; this couldn't be happening…
"Oh baby, light's on, but your mom's not home. I'm sick of laying down alone, hey, with this fever, fever, yeah. My one and own, I wanna get you alone. Give you a fever, fever, yeah!"
The blonde walked out from behind the bleacher, eliciting a whole new sound from the crowd, ranging from pure joy, to utter astonishment. The microphone was held close to his lips, attempting seduction with innocent violet eyes as he walked closer and closer to his blonde duet partner.
"There it goes, you stole my soul and so. 'Cause, sweetheart no-no-nobody a-kno-kno-knows me, or can find time to be m-mine, mine."
Matthew would find the time, he would make time, all the time…
"Let's get inside your car, just you, me and the stars, kind of ménage a trois, sometimes. Would you be m-mine? Would you be m-mine? Would you be m-mine?"
Francis took the chorus:
"Oh baby, light's on, but your mom's not home. I'm sick of laying down alone, hey, with this fever, fever, yeah. My one and own, I wanna get you alone. Give you a fever, fever, yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah!"
"You burn me, burn me up, baby yeah, yeah! Baby you're mine, baby you're mine, mine, you're mine! Oh baby! Light's on, but your mom's not home. I'm sick of laying down alone, with this fever, fever, yeah! My one and own, I wanna get you alone. I got this fever that I can't sweat out!"
"Oh baby, light's on, but your mom's not home. I'm sick of laying down alone, with this fever, fever, yeah! My one and own, I wanna get you alone, yeah, give you fever, fever yeah! Give you my f-f-fever, my f-fever! Give you my f-f-fever, my f-fever! Give you fever, fever, yeah! Give you fever, fever, yeah!"
The song rung on for a few more second, but the sound never died. The crowd screamed, cheered, cat-called, and uttered any other sound possible. Matthew giggled, high on the rush of performing.
The band waited for the crowd to die down again, before beginning the next song. The first few bars got them hyped up again anyway. Francis took a deep breath, sending Matthew the same look he had previously sent the older blonde.
"Steve walks warily down the street, with the brim pulled way down low. Ain't no sound but the sound of his feet, machine guns ready to go. Are you ready, hey, are you ready for this? Are you hanging on the edge of your seat? Out of the doorway the bullets rip to the sound of the beat!"
"He-e-ey, Another one bites the dust, another one bites the dust! And another one gone, and another one gone. Another one bites the dust. Hey, I'm gonna get you too! Another one bites the dust!
"How do you think I'm going to get along, without you, when you're gone? You took me for everything that I had, and kicked me out on my own. Are you happy, are you satisfied? How long can you stand the heat? Out of the doorway the bullets rip to the sound of the beat! Look out!"
The crowd joined, the chorus overwhelmingly loud and menacing:
"Another one bites the dust. Another one bites the dust. And another one gone, and another one gone, another one bites the dust! Hey, I'm gonna get you too, another one bites the dust!
"Hey! Another one bites the dust. Another one bites the dust. Oww! Another one bites the dust. Hey hey, Another one bites the dust! He-e-e-ey!"
"There are plenty of ways you can hurt a man, and bring him to the ground. You can beat him, you can cheat him, you can treat him bad and leave him when he's down! But I'm ready, yes I'm ready for you! I'm standing on my own two feet, out of the doorway the bullets rip repeating the sound of the beat! Ooh yeah!"
"Another one bites the dust, Another one bites the dust. And another one gone, and another one gone, another one bites the dust! Hey, I'm gonna get you too, another one bites the dust!"
An instrumental continued for a bit, but eventually, the song wrapped up to a finish; the crowd louder and more pumped up for the second half of the game. Matthew, Francis, the band and the cheerleaders left the field as the players rushed back on to resume the game.
The two blondes sat in the bleacher, among fans and rivals, coming together and complementing them on their performance. By the time the two found some seats, the younger was bright red from being noticed and complimented. The duo sat down, just as the ball was thrown, and a touchdown was scored for the home team.
It was ironic; the two sat just as the rest of the crowd rose, some cheering, others booing. Matthew looked around, laughing at the irony that he was faced with. As he continued looking around, his eyes eventually met blue ones; his heart, still beating at a rapid pace, quickened.
"Mathieu, you were phenomenal tonight; I cannot wait for the finale."
His voice was barely over a whisper, but Matthew hear every word clearly. Phenomenal. Francis had called him phenomenal. If his face could have been any darker, it would have been at that moment.
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Alfred and Arthur sat with the rest of the band; their fingers all crossed for the last half of the game.
The home team was down by eight points, with nine and a half of seconds left in the game. Alfred was yelling at some friends on the team ("C'mon 22! You know what to do 15! 21! Let's get this done!") Arthur sat, as confused as he was at the beginning of the game, pulling on Alfred's sleeve to get him to sit back down.
"Sorry, habit."
The green-eyed teen frowned angrily,
"We're going to lose, aren't we?"
Alfred didn't want to admit it; it looked as if Arthur's first time seeing a football game was going to be a home team loss.
"Not if we can score a touchdown and get the field goal," he exclaimed, trying to be optimistic.
"Oh? Then we'll win?"
"Then we'll be tied."
"I see…"
Arthur sat, trying to understand the game that Americans went crazy for. Alfred watched, conspicuously, and saw when Arthur gave up, and just watched the last nine and a half seconds.
Players couldn't be heard over the roar of the crowd, but all could be seen: the ball was hutted, passed from player to player, the last pass was thrown… Received! Number 22 ran, throwing the ball on the ground for a touchdown, not caring where it went, as the buzzer sounded. The crowd erupted in a fit of cheering, mixed with screaming and crying.
The atmosphere was tense as the players set up for the field goal. The kicker was getting a pep talk from his coach before he was needed on the field. The small boy was seen running across the field, stopped in his designated position, and setting up for the kick of his high school career.
The sea of spectators sat in a mixture of awe, worry and excitement. This kick could decide the game. The kicker took a deep breath, wound up and kicked; Arthur covered his mouth with one hand, the other flying to Alfred's hand. Both squeezed each others' hands as they watched the ball fly through the goal posts.
Screams and cheers, louder than before echoed through the area that was barren moments ago.
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That's it. It was done. A tie game.
The home team was much too willing to oblige, that game being the closest thing to a win a number of years, they weren't about to let it slip out of their grasp.
Matthew and Francis stood in the field, seeing various supporters and watchers celebrating the close-to-a-victory. They looked at each other.
"A good game, non?"
"V-very. Can you excuse me for one moment?"
Matthew ran off without an answer. He quickly found his twin among the crowd of band students, celebrating and preparing for the post game show.
"Alfred! What do we do now? It was a tie!"
The mentioned rolled his eyes,
"Isn't it obvious? We both have to do our shares of the bet,"
Alfred was much too calm for the situation, Matthew noted.
"Now get back out there! We're gonna start in one minute!"
The younger blonde was pushed back out onto the field, and he broke into a light jog to catch up with Francis.
"Everything sorted out?"
"Eh… More or less."
The band began in the background, eliciting one more round of cheering for the hoarse crowd.
Matthew took a deep breath in,
"Do you ever feel like a plastic bag, drifting through the wind, wanting to start again? Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin, like a house of cards, one blow from cavin' in? Do you ever feel already buried deep, six feet under screams but no one seems to hear a thing! Do you know that there's still a chance for you, 'cause there's a spark in you; you just gotta ignite the light, and let it shine. Just own the night like the Fourth of July! 'Cause baby you're a firework, c'mon show 'em what you're worth! Make 'em go, ah, ah, ah, as you shoot across the sky-y-y!"
On cue, though the younger blonde didn't know it at the time, fireworks were set off in the background, lighting up the sky, much as the song says.
"Baby, you're a firework! C'mon let your colors burst! Make 'em go ah, ah, ah you're gonna leave 'em falling do-o-own! You don't have to feel like a waste of space; you're original, cannot be replaced! If you only knew what the future holds, after a hurricane, comes a rainbow. Maybe your reason why all the doors are closed, so you could open one that leads you to the perfect road. Like a lightning bolt, your heart will glow, and when it's time you'll know: you just gotta ignite the light, and let it shine, just own the night, like the Fourth of July!"
Matthew wished desperately that Francis would sing those words to him, full of the passion reserved for him, and him only… Kind of like he was then…
" 'Cause baby you're a firework! C'mon show 'em what you're worth! Make 'em go, ah, ah, ah, as you shoot across the sky-y-y! Baby, you're a firework, c'mon let your colors burst! Make 'em go, ah, ah, ah! You're gonna leave 'em fallin' do-o-own! Boom, boom, boom! Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon! It's always been inside of you, you, you! And now it's time to let it throu-ou-ough!"
"'Cause baby, you're a firework!"
"C'mon show 'em what you're worth!"
"Make 'em go,"
"Ah,"
"Ah,"
"Ah,"
"As you shoot across the sky-y-y!"
Violet eyes opened to glance at his partner, who was singing in the background as Matthew held the note.
"Baby, you're a firework! C'mon let your colors burst. Make 'em go ah, ah, ah. You're gonna leave 'em falling do-o-own!"
"Boom, boom, boom, even brighter than the moon, moon, moon."
"Boom, boom, boom, even brighter than the moon, moon, moon."
Fireworks were still going off in the background, even as the song came to an end, and the spectators settled down the watch the display. Players, coaches, cheerleaders, and band members all took the field, joining the crowd in watching the beautiful arrangement.
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Arthur looked immensely pleased, like a child on Christmas morning, watching the fireworks explode in the sky. Alfred watched the colors reflect of emerald green eyes, no color quite matching or outdoing the competition.
"Hey, Arthur, want to go somewhere higher?"
He nodded, never taking his eyes off the sky until he was pulled in the opposite direction.
"Where are we going Alfred," the green-eyed teen asked through laughs and shivers from the cold.
The two ascended the bleacher steps, not stopping until the very top, then turning around.
From that height, they could see the whole football field, including the show above it.
"They're beautiful! I don't think I've ever seen fireworks like this before…"
"First football game, now first fireworks? Oh man… Well how about we add one more first to that list?"
Arthur laughed,
"Oh? Like what?"
"Like a first date, and the first dance of the year."
At first, Arthur was unable to move, but slowly (And Alfred made sure it wasn't just from the cold), he started to nod, faster and faster until, from out of nowhere, they were hugging.
'Finally…'
Bottle cap green eyes met sky blue ones' for a brief moment before green retreated into the warmth of Alfred's jacket. The two stood embracing for a long while; most of the crowd had dispersed and the fireworks were a mere echo in the background, a few still being fired off.
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Matthew watched the last few fireworks die off; he had lost Francis in all the excitement, and wouldn't be able to fulfill his half of the bet. The worst part was that Alfred would be able to tell. He always knew when Matthew was lying, mostly because he was a bad liar.
The blonde walked back to where his brother's car was parked, the chilly wind starting to effect him. He rubbed his hands together, and after a few minutes of waiting, he hopped atop of the car hood, pulling his knees close to his chest, watching his breath fan out in little puffs.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"
Matthew rolled his eyes, 'Here it comes…'
"You're twin, Matthew. If you forget me one more time, Al, I swear…"
"Woah, someone's in a grumpy mood. Why so mad, bro?"
"No reason," Matthew rebutted quickly, shrugging his brother's hand off his shoulder.
"You didn't do it, did you?"
No response.
"Matthew! You didn't do it? What the hell man! We had a deal! How could you not!"
Matthew rolled his eyes again; it was only a childish bet.
"I did my part, you have to do yours!"
"Wait! You, you asked Arthur out? What did he say?"
Alfred grinned,
"Yes, of course. Who would say no to this?"
He ushered up and down his body, and his brother couldn't help but laugh.
"Hey! What the hell dude! Don't laugh at me, you douche!"
But Matthew wasn't paying attention to his brother; his violet eyes were on a blonde Senior he had just shared an amazing week with, currently walking towards his car.
Matthew jumped off Alfred's car, racing towards the older blonde.
"Francis!"
The blonde turned around just in time to be almost mauled down by the younger. Matthew threw his arms around Francis' neck, and kissed him hard. Francis stood in shock, and Matthew tried harder and harder to get Francis to participate. He moved his lips sensually against the Frenchmans', begging him to contribute to the kiss.
Suddenly, he felt hands on his lower back, and lips moving against his, and, Oh! Life was good! With his violet eyes still shut, Matthew grasped Francis' long hair tilting his head sideways and licking his bottom lip. But before he lost himself any farther in the kiss, he had to pull away.
"I think I kinda like you a lot," Matthew whispered into the blue-eyed blonde's ear. He kissed his cheek, then walked back to his brother's car. Alfred stood, in utter shock from his brother's actions.
"Al, do you want me to drive?"
Alfred, never blinking, shook his head, and got in the car. Matthew, in the passenger's seat, turned to his brother,
"So, what was that you were saying?"
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Sorry for any grammar, or French mistakes, I'm like Matthew, only not at 99%. (-_-);;
Anyway, I hope you liked it~!